Out of Tune
by Lumi75
Summary: Yamazaki's music can drive anyone out of tune, esp. Bansai the audiophreak. Feat. Takasugi.
1. How I met Yamazaki

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Sorachi Hideaki

**Warnings: **None

**Notes: **Post-Shinsengumi Discord Arc. Credit and appreciation goes to_ ringo ame_ for inspiring the Yamazaki Convenience Store scene.

::

**_:: OUT OF TUNE 1 ::_**

::

Two weeks ago, I caught a Shinsengumi spy who appeared to be the runt of the litter among the Bakufu dogs. But as I prepared to cull him, I became aware of the song of his soul, and it sounded like the opening intro of the best punk rock song I've ever heard. The guitars were bright and fast like the spinning wheels of kids racing down the neighbourhood on their BMX bikes. The cymbals were crisp like the hiss of a shuttlecock smashed at 90m/s. His vocals sounded more sandpapery than a scratchy box of sand when he said his Vice-Commander's name.

An ice-cold tingle ran down my spine as I withdrew my katana. The kid tumbled to the ground like the death gurgle of a microphone, but incredibly enough, his music surged onwards untainted by fear or hate. He simply didn't care about himself. He was tenaciously determined to warn his comrades of Itou's deadly betrayal. He shouldn't have been able to move at all, but he managed to get back on his feet, not discouraged in the least by the crimson torrent burbling and splattering from his side. Goosebumps prickled across my skin. The guy was either incredibly stupid or incredibly naive, but his music was… _epic._ Something about his music made the battlefield fade far, far away. Compared to how fresh his song was, all my revolutionary ideals seemed fake and plastic.

_Only his soul sounds were real. _

I realized that I had to save him. Before rejoining the fray I quickly slapped plasters over his back and ribs to stop the bleeding. "Don't die on me, buddy," I said, "I want to listen to your music one more time."

:: :: ::

That was two weeks ago. Our strike against the Shinsengumi ended with my humiliating defeat at Gintoki's hands. Even now, I still don't understand how he did it. How on earth was he able to summon the superhuman strength to drag my helicopter down from the sky? Is that even humanly possible?! No, that feat is simply beyond the bounds of human strength! But he really did it! How…?

The song of his soul told me the answer.

_You know what? I've heard that song before…within my own soul. Its not there anymore, though. _

_Does that mean that I'm dead inside?_

_Being a human is such a pain. I don't want to be a human being._

_I want to be a… _MICROPHONE!!

Since my mission ended and Shinsuke returned to Kyoto, I've been obsessed with capturing the soul sounds I heard that day. I cancelled all social appointments and holed up in the studio with my shamisen, recording riffs, melodies, mood synths…anything, anything that gushed from my memory related to the events of that day. I wore out two 40 page notebooks and arranged 8 complete songs in 2 weeks. Don't get me wrong, I was proud of my songs. They were well-crafted and worthy of shifting 300,000+ copies on the first day if performed by one of my delightfully kawaii audioslaves, sorry, I meant ingénues. But I felt so infuriated my hair spiked up on its own without the need for Gatsby number 7. None of the pieces even came close to the sounds I heard that day. I started to doubt my sanity as melody blended with memory…I grabbed my head, asking my muse to let me relive those moments exactly, oh what would I give to hear that incredible vision again?! From time to time I felt the temptation to seek out their original creators, Gintoki or Yamazaki – it didn't matter which one – but something always held me back. I think I might really betray Shinsuke if I heard those sounds again. Unthinkable as it was, I might really defect from the Kiheitai over a piece of punk rock. This would be terribly out of sync with the rules of Bushido, even if my soul sounds were already out of tune with my leader.

_A promise made is a promise kept._

:: :: ::

6pm. I decided I had been working too hard so I stepped outside and took a walk in Kabuki-cho to clear my head. The sky was pleasantly peach-colored and a warm breeze was blowing. Other than feeling a little disoriented by the kaleidoscopic change of musical genres every few steps I took, I felt refreshed.

A familiar piece of indie punk made my ears perk up. Now if that wasn't Yamazaki, the Shinsengumi guy, walking briskly in front of me. I quickly positioned myself behind his left shoulder and followed closely.

He had a note in his hand and could hear his boyish tenor reading out its contents. "…Cigarettes for Hijikata Vice-Commander, S. Magazine for Okita, plasters with dinosaur prints, milk, eggs and flour, a can of spam, a bunch of bananas, a bottle of mayonnaise, one Justaway and one Tonkatsu takeaway. Yossshhh!" Yamazaki arrived at a convenience store and entered. He went straight to the magazine stand, picked out a glossy and started reading. I hid behind a revolving greeting card rack and pretended to be examining the cards, but in fact I was straining my ears to catch his soul song.

Yamazaki's song wasn't the same one I remembered, which made me feel a wee bit disappointed. It's like meeting someone who smells really good but the next time you meet him or her, something's changed. Maybe it's the perfume, or shampoo, or simply the B.O. Anyways, that illusive something that so attracted you is gone forever. It's just a wee bit disappointing, you know. No…scratch that. It's _very_ disappointing. The more I thought about it, the more _emo_ I felt. Now that he had miraculously reappeared in front of me, I desperately wanted to hear _that_ song, the song I heard _that_ day. But no sane man would be digging deep into the darkest depths of his soul while filling out a laundry list!

What should I do to make him play that song again?

Yamazaki had been browsing through that magazine for quite some time now. To be precise, it's been more than 15 minutes. I squinted through the wire rack at him. He had a big smile on his face and looked as happy as a badminton-lover with front row seats for the Yonex Cup. I fidgeted. What's taking him so long? Just what the heck was he reading? Don't tell me he was enjoying Okita's S. Magazine?! I squinted through the wires stand. It was TennisWeek._ TennisWeek?!_ Why was he reading TennisWeek? Wasn't he a badminton-lover? And wasn't he supposed to be running an errand, not wasting his time reading?

At that moment, the Shinsengumi spy seemed to remember his mission. He took TennisWeek to the cashier, paid for it and left the store.

Hey! What about Hijikata's smokes? And Okita's S. magazine? And dinosaur plasters? _Hey!_ I felt like shouting at him. I waited until he had left and the sliding door slid shut before stepping out. I saw Yamazaki's back walking in front of me. Just as the automatic door closed behind me, he suddenly stood stock still, hit his fist into his palm and ran straight towards me.

_To be continued..._

:: :: ::

Please review, they help me a lot. Thanks! XD


	2. And my day went out of tune

_:: Bansai calls Takasugi by his first name, Shinsuke. He is still dressed as Tsunpo the record producer. Since it's summer, I figure he's wearing loose-fitting, semi-transparent gear by Yohji_

_:: Yamamoto (Y-3) in white cotton and khaki. White-framed sunglasses by Tom Ford._

_:: BORRR-RIIIIIG!_

::

**:: _OUT OF TUNE 2 _::**

::

Ack! I had nowhere to hide! I turned and studied the ads displayed on the glass walls just as the kid dashed back into the store, bumping into my shoulder. "Excuse me!" he shouted apologetically. I frowned at the sight of him running up and down the aisles filling up his basket at top speed with miscellaneous items – most of which I distinctly recall _not_ being on his laundry list._ Hello!!_ What about Hijikata's smokes? And Okita's magazine? How could he be so nonchalant? His scatter-brained thought processes were driving me out of tune. Would it be worth my while to continue to follow him?

After Yamazaki left the store, he headed for a white van parked by the side of the road. It had a little window with a wooden counter, wooden shutters and a dark green canopy. The signboard wrote _Chinatown Japanese Food._ The server at the window looked pale and haggard. "Tonkatsu with mayonnaise", Yamazaki ordered. "Gimme a_ Kats-_" The server grunted irritably to someone inside the van. Almost immediately a red plastic bowl popped up on the counter. "Mayo's over there," she said, lifting a slack finger towards a metal rack standing on the pavement, cluttered with red and yellow bottles of condiments. Grabbing a bottle, Yamazaki conscientiously began slathering on the mayonnaise in a coil, from the rim to the centre. His cell rang and he gripped it between his ear and shoulder."Hm...Hmm..WHAT?! Back-to-School Special? No...no man, I don't --the Cartoon Network? No! You should've told me earlier. I've already renewed my subscription."

The cutlet was so smothered by the putty colored condiment it wobbled, and the bottle sputtered complainingly."Um…excuse me, but there's no more mayo?" Yamazaki said sheepishly, holding up the bottle. The server stared stupefied. Her face turned white, then red, then purple. Her soul screeched like a banshee. "DON'T MESS WITH ME!" She screamed. _Whoa!_ The unlucky Jimi must have been the last straw in her long day. The poor woman was tired…tired of 5000 years of female repression and wanted to RAWR!

Hehe…Now how was the little Jimi going to handle this?

As expected, he cringed. "Hey don't look at me like that!" he protested, holding out his hands. "This isn't for me! It's for my boss! Do you think I really like mayo that much? If I did I wouldn't put it on my food, I'd just-!" He held up nozzle close to his lips. _"Kyaaahhh!!"_ screamed the server.

"Nyaaahh!" Yamazaki replied, plonking the empty bottle on the counter. "Look, I'm sorry for using up all the mayo. It must have been pretty expensive. I feel bad now…" He bent down and rummaged through his plastic bag. "Have a banana?" He asked innocently, holding up the bright yellow fruit. The server's jaw worked up and down as if questioning Yamazaki's sanity.

"No? Don't like it?" Yamazaki's brows knitted nervously. "Ah I know, I can do better, right? Here-" He produced a beige colored pill-shaped object painted with two deadpan eyes, little stick mouth and two sticks sticking out of its side. The server took one look into the dead eyes of the object and her soul went completely silent, as if the floor had broken underneath her and she was free-falling in a void.

I heard them squabbling. // what is this ?/ this is a justaway. / what is a justaway? / a justaway is just a justaway! // THAT'S WHAT I ASKED, WHAT THE HECK IS A JUSTAAWAAAAY?!?!?!_ / A JUSTAWAY IS JUST A JUSTAWAY! STOP ASKING ME SO MANY QUESTIONS!// I heard..a beautiful explosion in a samurai's soul. _Tears flowed down my cheeks.

_That sound is sooooo close –_ _sooooo close to what I heard that day!_

I wiped away a tear and I gave thanks to my muse. Yes, that sound _could be recaptured,_ and I'm not giving up until I do.

:: :: ::

YOSH! I'm a man with a mission --_ now I feel alive! _

Suddenly, my prey dashed down the alleyway. Eh? Did he notice that he was being followed? Was he leading me into an alleyway so that he could ambush me? Ha! If so, come and get me! The kid might have the Yamato spirit but he forgot the main point. A swordsman doesn't get paid for Bushido, he gets paid for results. And his results were…_fail._ He would be boring to fight with, but who knows? Maybe threatening him would trigger his soul song? I dashed down a few backstreets but no sign of Yamazaki. Where the hell was he? I heard soft shoes pattering from behind me and a boyish tenor call out "Hey, don't run away!"

Ambush! Fuck me! I miscalculated. I totally forgot I was still dressed as Tsunpo the record producer. If he sees me, my alter ego would be compromised! I ran back down the street and knelt behind a dumpster. "I can see you~~" Yamazaki cooed evilly. Huh? He's changed! He's not as innocent as I first thought! I peered at a puddle of water under the dumpster which acted as a mirror. The shadow approached closer and closer and paused about three meters from my hiding place. Then I saw him snap the fingers of his right hand and roll it like there was food in it. _"Here, kitty kitty!"_

_What the —?! This is an insult!_ I clenched my fists, wondering if I should step out and cut him in the name of honor. A samurai's name is of the utmost importance to him and his ancestors! I may have spiky hair, dress in shiny black leathers and ride a classic Kawasaki – but no one calls me _kitty_.

"_Here, kitty kitty! Kawaii, ne!"_ Yamazaki wriggled his fingers like twinkling waves then curled into a beckoning gesture. H-How dare he tease me?! I said nobody calls me kitty and lives! My honor can't stand it anymore! I furiously stood up from my hiding place. Get it right, buddy! I thought to myself.

Call me…_Kyuubi!! _(1)

I noticed an adorable little kitten licking Yamazaki's fingers. Its fur was mouse-colored.

_Oops._

I ducked back down, heart pounding. I felt idiotic. I should just leave – Suddenly I heard a deep, powerful voice boom beside my ear. "Eh…Bansai," Shinsuke said. "So it really is you."

_SHINSUKE?! _I nearly shrieked and jumped three meters into the air. Shinsuke was my leader in the Kiheitai terrorist organization. What was he doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be in Kyoto? I stared at him kneeling beside me behind the dumpster. He was dressed in his usual flowery kimono and straw hat. Thank goodness he wasn't smoking, or the acrid fumes would give our location away. With a malicious smirk, Shinsuke sucked in his breath noisily. "Tssscccchh," he scoffed. "I recall I ordered you to destroy the Shinsengumi. So what are you doing now? Are you working, or trying to get a _date?_"

"Working." I hissed. Shinsuke didn't even bother hiding his voice. Was he trying to get me exposed?

"Really? Then why don't you hurry up and…_EXECUTE HIM!!_"

With explosive force he suddenly tackled me and threw me on top of Yamazaki. Yamazaki fell face forward into his bowl of mayonnaise and the kitten jumped onto Shinsuke's head. Taking advantage of my leader's momentary blindness, I grabbed his elbow and made him run down the alley with me until we turned the corner. We spilled out onto the main street of Kabuki-cho and blended into the teeming crowd.

:: :: ::

Shinsuke pushed aside the enclosure of an outdoor café and sat at a table. I followed suit. The river of pedestrians murmured as it flowed unceasingly forward, while we two faced off in stony silence. Large grey umbrellas emblazoned with the single black star of Sapporo beer did a good job of swathing us in shadows. Under his straw hat, all I could see of Shinsuke's features were his wide, sarcastic smile, small jaw and pale high cheekbones. He slowly stroked the tiny mouse colored kitten, which perched tremblingly on his chest. For some reason it stopped meowing. Its eyes were blue. I figured it was about 3 weeks old.

I softly asked him if he was testing me.

"Your speed is as good as ever." He replied, stroking the kitten in a creepy way. "So…care to tell me what you were doing?" I clasped my hands. I could lie to him and say I was feeding Yamazaki false information or I could tell him the truth that I was stalking him. I didn't feel like doing either. So I said, "I promised you I would destroy the Shinsengumi, and I will do it."

Shinsuke looked amused as held the kitten in one hand and fished for a lighter from the stash of his yukata. He always looked amused, even when he was down. Must be fun, thinking up evil schemes all day. Must be fun to toy with human lives and see them suffer. Must be fun, visualizing Edo burning in a sea of flames? Shinsuke flicked his gold Zippo and watched the soft vermillion blossom dance buoyantly in the shadows. His face became as innocent as a baby. What a sick puppy. I'm really not in tune with that plan anymore, you know. About burning the whole of Edo. Burning the Bakufu is OK, but not the whole of Edo. I don't want to have to cancel my fund-raising concert for PETA! I remember Shakeshambeth said it best. _Discordia, thy_ _name is Woman! _ (2) Although I can't really remember.

"Your passive-aggressive look is quite cute." Shinsuke commented, fixing me with his glittering pupils. I swear that man lives off pain because his face grew intensely alive, as if greeting an old friend. "Ever wondered what I'd do to you if you betrayed me?"

"No. Because I'll never betray you."

Shinsuke plucked the kitten up by the scruff of her neck and placed her front paws on his left shoulder. The kittens back legs scrambled across his collarbone and her tiny tail stuck straight up, weaving left and right for balance. "Watch this." He said, and put the lighter close to the kitten's waving tail. The kitten meowed.

"Stop it, you SICK PUPPY!" I knew Shinsuke was a pyromaniac, but he can't also be a _kitten-killer, _can he?!This must be another of his petty tests, to see how I would react.

"Hey, hey, is this any way to talk to your leader? Bitch?"

"Sorry Shinsuke," I bowed my head and offered him my shamisen. "Please burn this instead." The soft firelight danced across the leather of the drum, which was worn as smooth as a petal except for two rows of four.

"It has cat…_nipples_." (3)

The light extinguished, making Shinsuke's expression indistinguishable. He stood up and put the kitten on the table, so I thought he was going to leave, but instead he circled behind my chair and dangled his arm over my chest. The gold lighter in his palm reignited with a _whoosh._ He pressed sadistically close to my ear and said, "Betray me, and I'll burn _your_ nipples_,_" before releasing gusts of hysterical, high-pitched laughter. I heard a swish of silk as he disappeared, malicious giggles echoing down an alleyway.

The kitten stared at me with filmy blue eyes and meowed reproachfully.

I glanced at her as if she was my only friend.

_Oh Kami-sama…_

Something must be seriously _out of tune_ in my life.

_To be continued...._

:: :: ::

Next chp, Bansai baits Yamazaki with info on the Kiheitai and confronts him in an abandoned dojo. But the music-obsessed villan has forgotten a fatal point. Soul sounds can only come from inside, not outside! Duh! Will the meeting be his downfall?

(1) Kyuubi – the nine-tailed demon fox imprisoned within Naruto.

(2) Bansai failed his literature class. The correct quote is "Frailty, thy name is woman", from Hamlet by Shakespeare. Discordia is the musical opposite of Harmonia.

(3) From wiki. Some older shamisens have drums made from cat skin, which bear nipple marks.

_Please review, it makes my day ^^_


	3. Even my shamisen was raped

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**::**_** OUT OF TUNE 3 **_**::**

::_**  
**_

By the time I got back to the SONY BUILDING at 7pm, my plan to capture Yamazaki's soul sounds had been formulated. I rang up a photographer I knew who owed me some favors. "Hey Rikki, I need a headshot taken ASAP. Can you help?" "Sure, I'm with a new band at the moment, but I can always squeeze out 5 minutes for you. So c'mon over, I'm in studio 6."

I reached the elevator just as it was about to slide close but the nice young lady inside held it open for me. She was very nice, I thought as my eyes got busy sizing her up. After all, I was always recruiting fresh meat, I meant fresh blood for my label, Hello! Project. Obviously, I was studying her from a purely professional, clinical point of view. Nothing so crass as ogling at her lovely complexion framed by long, rosy tresses. Or thinking how her white mohair cap with cute side flaps emphasized her moist brown eyes. No, I just analyzing the construction of the white and raspberry ruffles that encircled her arms and tied in a red silk bow at the centre of her ahem, rather flat chest…my eyes were drawn upwards from her bare shoulders to her milky white thro— ADAM'S APPLE?!

Dammit…he was a _visual kei (1)_…I can't even tell girls from guys anymore, what has the world come to?

I pushed open the door to the photo studio and was attacked by a wave of distorted guitars. If they were indeed guitars, for kami-sama's sake, they sounded more like someone tying a shamisen to a feedback loop then amplifying its screams as it was brutally hacked apart by ice-picks. They better not be raping my favorite instrument. I would be as outraged as a samurai whose sword was used to flip pancakes!

My eyes went bloodshot as I stared the skinny young rockers in the room. Except for the lead singer, they were dressed in torn leather pants, no shirts and belts of ammo crossed over skinny chests. Their faces were corpse-colored as if suffering from TB. And, holy mother of pearl, they were indeed welding shamisens which had been modified to look like Amanto spaceships and weapons! Despite my nationalistic urge to cleanse Edo of these corrupted chimpanzees, I held myself back, because Rikki was already waving to me to stand at the canvas to get my picture taken.

I quickly put on my disguise and finished the headshot. I spent another minute instructing the photoshop technician on the effects I wanted, namely to make the portrait look like it was taken 30 years ago and my face aged appropriately. As I waited for the technician to manipulate my image, I heard a deep baritone voice address me.

"Yo nakama, you're not from the _Keihentai_, are you?"

I gasped in shock. Kisama! How did he know I was a member of the Kiheitai? Did my illegal afterhours activities just get outed? I turned to face the man behind me, if he was indeed a man. First of all, he had long frizzy hair that covered his whole head, including the front part. So I was forced to look at his black T-shirt, which was printed with a picture of a snowman with big gaping mouth. The words read: FROSTY THE SLASH SAMURAI. Again, I felt a vein throb in my head but I kept my cool. From the smell on his breath, and the half-empty beer bottle in his hand, he was probably drunk.

"_Kiheitai?_ Yeah, like I would be hanging out with punks like that." I drawled ironically.

The man's posture stiffened, as if I had offended him. He took a deep breath before gesticulating wildly with his hands. "Punks?! Don't compare us to punks! Punks are as far down the evolutionary ladder of music as your girlfriend is from the Pussycat Dolls! Or maybe you can't tell….You look like a sensitive guy, like Michael Jackson! Are you stuck in the eighties? Get with the program, boyfriend! We're _Visual Kei Hentai._ We are revolutionaries who make love not war!"

"Your band is…"

"We are the Keihentai, Terrorists of Love!!" The person shouted, opening his arms wide. "What's your name, eh, nakama?" he asked, slapping a sweaty palm on my arm in a not entirely friendly manner. I looked at his grimy fingers touching my expensive Y-3 shirt, then looked at him. Just then, Rikki rushed between us. "Let me introduce you…this is Tsunpo, the music producer."

"TSUNPO?!!" The man gasped, and I was suddenly enveloped in a beer-breathed hug. "OH MY GOD I'M SO HONORED TO MEET YOU! I LOVE YOU!"

"Please don't." I said, raising an eyebrow sarcastically.

"What's the matter? I'm just showing you my love! I love all musicians whether they are male or female. That's the problem with us Japanese guys, we can't show our love openly. We need a revolution! That's why I'm proud to be a samurai of love!"

"Really. So why does your shirt say "slash" samurai?"

"Nakama, are you Japanese? Can't you read kanji? Don't you know that _"slash"_ and "_samurai"_(2) are written with the same characters? Go look it up on google! Actually you're exactly the type of close-minded male I would love to transform in our revolution of love! Hit it, boys!" His musical sidekicks started playing the song which I hated, because it sold a lot more albums than mine. "Vanilla" by Gackt. He started gyrating provocatively and singing in a deep, sexy baritone voice. Not bad, not bad, but I don't need to see – _OOhhh!_ He pounced on his bandmate's chest and started grinding on him. I hissed and averted my eyes.

Rikki looked at me strangely. "Stop being such a prude, Tsunpo. Times are changing. An entertainer who can't perform_ fanservice_ is like a samurai who runs away from seppuku."

:: :: ::

I decided to leave the monkeys to play in their zoo and retreat to the peaceful sanctuary of the men's toilet. As I splashed water on my face, I thought about how corrupted Japan had become since the Amanto came. Worse of all, the enemy was within. To think slash and samurai shared the same kanji?!?! Unbearable! But that's not the Amanto's fault. It's the Chinese people's fault. Damn the First Emperor of China for inventing kanji in the first place! Yes, Damn the Emperor! It's all his fault. Damn the Emperor?! (3) Huh? What am I saying?! Is this really me? Am I corrupted too? No, it can't be…

"IT'S THE ENEMY WITHIN!" I punched the mirror in shame and frustration. I stared at my face in the mirror, the disgusting reflection of a xenophobic, homophobic and kanji-phobic male. I felt dark indeed. But not all hope was lost. I heard a small, still voice within…_ I'm looking at the man in the mirror. It's telling me to change my ways._ If Michael can do it, so can I! (4)

Suddenly, I heard the gurgle of a toilet flushing and a fatherly figure in a white lab coat appeared out of a cubicle. It was Doctor Fuku, the resident psychologist. "Are you ok, young man?" he asked in a kindly manner and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. Eh? Patting my shoulder? That guy hasn't even washed his hands! Who knows where they've been? Get those hands away from me! "It's ok. Just accept yourself. It happens to everyone. By that I mean all male entertainers in Japan between the ages of 14 to 40. Even the mighty Gackt suffers from it, so you're in good company."

"Huh? What are you talking about? You mean I…"

"Yes. It's called the Gackt Syndrome. When skinny male performers pretend to be gay for money, but end up becoming bi."

"Hey look at me, doctor! Do I look gay to you?" Dr Fuku looked up and down at my semi-translucent clothes, meticulously styled hair and thick luscious eyelashes. After a beat, I put my sunglasses back on and coughed. Dr Fuku's eyes widened. "Hey, I know you! You're Tsunpo, the producer of Japan's top girl bands including Edo's pop sensation Terakado Tsu! Good heavens, of course you can't be gay! You must be a …_lolicon!"_

"Lolicon or polygon. I like girls, ok?"

"Huh? Then why did I hear you shout that you had an enemy within? Oh ho ho…I get it! Very witty. It was a pun, wasn't it? Once again, not to worry. It happens to everyone. By that I mean all male office workers in Japan. Even the mighty Sorachi-sensei suffers from it, so you're in good company. (5)" He took out a notepad and started scribbling. Then he tore out the page, discreetly folded, and passed it to me with a twinkle in his eye. I shot him an uncomfortable look before reading its contents. "Place 3 tablespoons of Maxwell coffee into a 2 litre pump filled with water and— _Whoa!_"

"We call it…the _enema_ within. Ha ha ha! Even doctors have humor, you know," he said as he walked away.

I stared reproachfully at his retreating back. No, I didn't appreciate his sense of humor.

:: :: ::

(1) _Visual Kei_ – Genre of Japanese glam rock. _Hentai _– Pervert

(2) "Samurai" means "one who _serves_" is related the term "service" in fan-_service._ But I don't think "fanservice" exists in kanji. Sorry I took some poetic liberties.

(3) Bansai is a Joi revolutionary whose slogan is "Revere the Emperor, Expel the Foreigners" Hence it's the ultimate sin for him to say "Damn you, Emperor!"

(4) Lyrics from Michael Jackson's inspirational song "Man in the Mirror" MJ, of course, changed a little _too_ much…

(5) Sorachi-sensei, the creator of Gintama reportedly suffers from hemorrhoids.

:: :: ::

Please review, because this chp asks for it. xD;;;


	4. But the song's not over

**Fanart:** Yey! It's title is.... '_The Wolf and the Clueless Lamb' __by **ringo ame **  
_

**Rating:** _Worksafe_

**Linky: **http:// i508 dot photobucket dot com / albums / s324 / asphodelion / by_hotaru dot j p g'

::

**:: _OUT OF TUNE_ _4_ ::**

::

At 8pm, my "portrait" was freshly printed onto canvas and put into a big fussy gold frame popular among daimyos with even bigger egos. All that excessive decoration is just so tacky, I thought as I tucked the picture into the leg-space of the passenger seat of my flashy red and black Maserati MX 808. As if the owner just wanted to scream out to the world "Hey look at me! I'm rich, powerful and fabulous!"

_Just like me._

When you're as great as I am, it's hard to be humble. (1)

…_Jerk. Of course I am. _Why else would I be friends with Takasugi Shinsuke, the most dangerously egotistical man in Edo. Although lately I find Shinsuke's been getting a little _too_ egotistical. As if he owned all the music in the world and his own song was the only thing he could hear. It didn't use to be like this. We used to be as _synchronized_ as two melodies produced from the same shamisen. But now Shinsuke can't hear anyone at all. It's like trying to talk to your friend at a Metallica concert. He's just not going to hear you. Not even if you cup your hands to his ears and shout so loud his ears get wet. Or try to communicate with physical gestures. He might even get the wrong idea and cut you.

After half an hour's drive, I arrived at my destination. An abandoned dojo at the foot of a mountain in the outskirts of Edo. It was so isolated that the nearest sign of human habitation was a village 10 minutes away by driving. This was the perfect setting for my one-on-one meeting with Yamazaki. If I couldn't hear his soul song in such a silent place, then I should call myself…_Bansai the Earless._ (2)

The dojo was in bad shape. The hinges of the front gate had rusted so badly that when I turned the key, the whole door crashed inwards. The flagstones in the courtyard were broken up by tall dry grass which shimmered around my ankles in the breeze. The dojo itself looked very impressive. Against the twilight of charcoal, pink and smoke, the dominating roof swept up like a black mountain. I felt a little nervous as I pushed open the shuttered doors and entered the darkened interior. A close, humid stench like smelly feet wrapped around me like the sleeping bag of a student backpacker. I gagged. Although I was more concerned about the odour getting into my stylish camo-green robe. Cobwebs drifted stickily through the air and clustered on my face and back. I saw field mice and small black snakes scuttle away, startling me. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was finally able to perceive its awesome spaciousness. A haze, the color of cherry blossom pink saturated the hall, melting into deep russet brown along the crevices of the exposed timber rafters. The last rays of sunlight squeezed itself through slats of the shutters and pelted out its swan song on the pliant fibres of shoji paper. How come this place felt so pure, when it was as dirty as hell?

I used the nylon from my shamisen to hoist my picture up to the middle of the end wall and fixed it. I then went around the hall and flung open all the shutters to clear the air out. Finally sitting crossed legged on the veranda, I flipped open my cell and dialed Yamazaki.

"Yamazaki. This is Santa Claus. Tonight's your lucky night."

After a beat, I heard a bored voice."…Is this an obscene call?"

"No. I actually have a Christmas Special for you. Tonight a Joi supporter—"

"Christmas Special? Why are you telling me this information now? I already renewed my subscription last week."

"No, this is an anonymous tip-off. Tonight a Joi supporter—"

"Did you say tip-off? What tip-off? I think your company is a rip-off! Just because you have my number doesn't give you the right to sell it to every goddam solicitor in Edo! That's spam, you know! Now if you bother me with one more Christmas Special, I'm not even going to answer. I'll just hang up." The line went dead.

I took a deep breath. And then another. And a third…

My cell rang again. Yamazaki. "Wait a minute. Did you say – _Joi supporter?"_

"If you want him, come right now to Kamehameha Dojo at the foot of Banyama Mountain. The owner is selling his dojo. One of his prospects will be a high-ranking member of the Kiheitai, although I don't know what time they have arranged to meet."

I hung up and switched off my cell.

:: :: ::

With that sorted, I walked around the building, trying to explore it a little more before nightfall. A large, overgrown garden—actually more like a forest –surrounded the dojo. The trees were so overgrown their branches even brushed the rooftop and stretched under the eaves. As far as I could see, the garden extended into the mountainside with no sign of the property fence. A splashing sound came from a distance, and I saw a waterfall cascade into an ornamental pool. The water was the color of bright rose wine. And the fireflies! There were so many of them! The little pulsating green insects were everywhere, clustering on the tree leaves like Christmas ornaments. I had never seen so many fireflies before, especially so late in the summer. Damn, this dojo was located out in the sticks. But they were very beautiful, especially the way they pulsed together, like heartbeats…

_As if synchronized._

I remember when Takasugi Shinsuke and I first met 8 years ago. The Joi war was still raging in the countryside, although it was getting closer and closer to our important cities. I worked in my dad's audio mastering workshop which pressed vinyl out of recordings. One day, as I was running down the street carrying a stack of vinyls, I turned the corner and collided with a group of Joi samurai hurrying in the opposite direction. My vinyls scattered across the wet cobblestones and some of them broke. A man grabbed my arm and pulled me up, telling me to run away as fast as I could because a riot was about to start. I was still a naïve teen and I insisted on picking up my discs because if I lost them, I would be beaten. Shots rang out and I was injured. A crowd of rampaging ronin ran towards us, cutting down everyone in their way. The guy dragged me away and fought to protect me until he dropped me off at my house. The man was Takasugi. It's not easy to describe how I felt that night and not sound gay, but I believe it happens to every artist. The day they see their muse embodied in physical form, is the day they believe in Kami-sama. _Because Kami-sama created Shinsuke._

The second reason why _Yamazaki's_ soul sounds so captivated me:

_That night. Shinsuke's soul song was the same._

:: :: ::

"Hello? Sorry to interrupt you. Is Kamehameha-danna home?" A boyish tenor called from the front court. Excellent. My prey had arrived. I strode towards him, trying to look as intimidating as possible. My first tactic was to scare him into playing his soul song. Hopefully, me cosplaying as Nizo minus the Benizakura would do the trick. That guy was the sleaziest ronin I had ever encountered. Greasy green hair moussed backwards into a "Roosterhead", mutton-chop sideburns and orange raver-style sunglasses. Nasty.

_Just like me._

"I'm Kamehameha and I own the fucking ground you stand on." I growled menacingly. "What are you doing on my property?"

"Well…I was driving by when I noticed a signboard on your front gate. It says _'FOR SALE'_ … Is that right? Can you show me around? " _Well, well, well, Yamazaki...we meet again. The farmer boy's blue yukata you're wearing suits you. _I'll bet he grew up in a small town. That would explain why he was so simple and naïve. I cocked my head sideways, folded my arms and looked at him speculatively. "It depends. Do you think I'll just sell it to anyone? I'm not even sure if I wanna sell it yet. Can you fight?"

"Um…I've welded a katana before if that's what you mean."

"Excellent" I said, picking up two wooden training swords and threw one towards him. He managed to grab it with one hand. Oh…he wasn't as unskillful as I first thought? This could be fun. "This dojo has been in our family for generations. Because of the global economic meltdown caused by the stupid Amanto investment bankers, I've now got to sell it to pay off my debts! But out of respect for my grandfather, I'm only going to sell the dojo to someone who is a true samurai."

"Is all this drama necessary to sell a house?"

"House?" I snorted. "You think _this_…is a house?"

"This isn't a house?"

"No."

"Okay. It's a_ dojo_."

"No, this is NOT a dojo."

"Ahh…I know, this is your Strawberry Fields…dedicated to the spot under the cherry tree where you had your first kiss. The tree was in full bloom and caught the moon in its branches. The petals slowly fell in the wind in ones and twos…you were eight years old…"

"THAT'S ALL WRROOOONG! This is not a house, nor a dojo, nor is it strawberry fields! This place is a _temple_ sacred to the way of the samurai. So shut up and _SPAR!!_"With a kabuki-style shout, I raised my bokuto and rushed at Yamazaki.

_To be continued... Last chp: Until the Fat Lady Sings  
_

:: :: ::

(1)Muhammad Ali said that.

(2) Hōichi the Earless (耳なし芳一 _Mimi-nashi Hōichi_) is a character from Japanese Mythology. Blind musician who was so gifted at playing "The Tale of the Heike" on the biwa that the Heike ghosts ripped off his ears when he refused to play for them.

:: :: ::

Big thank you to BigSEED, TaoT, ringo ame, Lady Serena Sparrow and uniFsky for the reviews. This fic wouldn't have lasted so long without you. ^^

Please review, I need them. ^^


	5. Until the fat lady sings

::

_**:: OUT OF TUNE 5 ::**_

::

The moment I whammed my bokuto towards his shoulder the childish twittering in his brain mercifully ceased. _Now play it again, Jimi. Play your soul song._ I crushed through his defences and his heart give a thump, before re-forming into a steady doki, doki, doki, doki. Hmm? I noticed that the lead guitarist and bass guitarist of his inner punk band now played with a lot more confidence and co-ordination.

Doki, doki, doki, doki –We parried...

Doki, doki, doki, doki –We circled...

Ha! Too easy –I lunged at his opening. The beats suspended, leaving an empty reverb. The genre reversed. In place of _doki doki,_ I heard a cold, cynical chanting.

kay. eye. ess. ess. eye. end. — _wait a minute those letters mean –_

gee. ess. eee. axe. –_ NOOOOO! IT CAN'T BE! _

eye. eff. gee. see. ae. ess. eye ooo. eee. ooo ae. eee. why. owe. you. end. gee. eye. –_ huh? This doesn't make sense don't tell me I'm hearing things _—

_OOOF!_ I felt a vicious kick on my solar plexus and the floorboard jumped towards me. Razor-sharp woodchips cartwheeled crazily in front of my eyes as I was dragged by the force of his blow halfway across the room. Before I could catch my breath, I heard a bakuto whoosh towards my neck and my own blade shot up at the last minute. Yamazaki's soul sound snickered in victory as he began putting his weight into the weapon. I was shivering all over because of my supine position, now how the heck was I supposed to score a winner – I desperately blasted at his bakuto and the weapon zinged off his wrist and whirled through the air. I flew forwards, locking his body and pressing the business end of my sword at his throat. His soul sounds went frantic, his chest heaved as he gurgled.

"Ok ok_... I give!"_

I smirked. Live punk is good but death punk is even better. I happen to be a fan of gothic industrial death punk to be exact. _Now will I hear your soul song if I torture you?_"Relax," I drawled, pressing down on his windpipe. "Its only…_Theatre of Pain_" His eyes went wide, but there was no malice. He started laughing. "If this is _"pain",_ then I'll trade my pain for yours any day. Where I work at, this is child's play." His big brown eyes looked straight at me. They were friendly, sparkling. "You're very strong..! Almost as strong as _Hijika – _aha _HA!_ KAME-hameha-danna! Let's have another round."

He tried to smooth over his slip of tongue, but it was too late. My sensitive pride was hurt. _Almost_ as good? Don't compare me with that…_redneck!_ I'm from Osaka dammit! When your precious Fukuchou was stilllistening to_ Hanson, _I was busy releasing my first album, "Shinto Decomposer" about my childhood rebellion against Kami-sama! Although I've come a long way since then… Come think of it, Yamazaki's power increased a lot since our last meeting. What happened?

"That's fine. You may not look it, but you have the Yamato spirit." I stretched out my hand and pulled him to his feet. "I've sparred with many prospective buyers, but you're the only one who reminded me of my brothers."

"Brothers? You mean your family?"

"Yes. Although I left Japan when I was 5 years old and raised overseas, this dojo has always been a special place for us. My brothers and I were born in this building and our grandfather took care of us. He used to stand…_right there_ – where you're standing now." I pointed at the spot where Yamazaki was standing. He looked down and shifted his foot uncomfortably, as if there should be some special mark to show my "grandfather" had once stood there. I smirked at his naiveté. "And he would watch my brothers and I go running through the garden chasing fireflies. We could hide for hours you know, even get lost in the mountains. That was the best memory I had of Japan. All my life, I've dreamt about moving back here and raising a family …unfortunately," I gave a dramatic sigh. "Not every dream can come true. That's life, isn't it?"

"Life is like monkeys trying to snatch the moon's reflection on water." (1)

"Like what…?" _page is his book on?  
_

"Well I was almost killed by a "mugger" 2 weeks ago. Most people would consider that to be bad luck. But was it? The way I see it, even if someone gave me a ten thousand yen, it wouldn't be worth more than what the "mugger" taught me." I fell silent and scrutinized his face behind my sunglasses. By "mugger", he must be referring to me. Was he for real when he said he wasn't angry at my attempt to assassinate him? But his soul song wasn't sarcastic. It was both brighter and gentler than when I first heard it, as if the same lyrics were now sung on a higher register. What happened? If he's changed, does it mean I'll never hear that song again? I felt like asking more, but I'm not like Shinsuke, I'm not good at asking personal questions. But I wasn't too concerned yet. I had a few more trials set up for Yamazaki...

"Hey…do you mind doing me a favor?"

"Sure, if it's something I can help you with."

I smiled a genuine smile. Yamazaki was a surprisingly nice guy. "This dojo has been in our family for the past 500 years." I said solemnly. "All my childhood memories are tied to it. Now the time has come for me to sell it and never see it again. In one more hour, at 10pm, I'll be meeting up with my final prospect. He's offered me a really good price so if all goes well we'd probably be settling the deposit tonight."

"Who is he?"

"Oh, just your average millionaire samurai." I brushed off the question with a vague wave of my hand. Yamazaki dark eyes glinted nervously. "It's only 9 pm now, so I have one more hour to go. During this time." I hesitated, as if embarrassed. "I was thinking of…Don't laugh at me ok…"

"Ha ha ha!" Yamazaki took it as his cue to laugh heartily.

"I would like to chase fireflies again…can you do it with me?"

His soul song went mellow. A soft smile appeared in his open face. "Friend, of course I'll help."

_Friend?_ I've been called friend lots of times, but it's never made me feel so warm inside. As if a fire had been rekindled within my soul. If so when did the fire die? Why was I was so obsessed with Yamazaki's soul song? Was I hoping that if I heard it, I would rediscover my own?

:: :: ::

"How many have you caught?! I already have 5!"

"Only 5? I have 10…"

We dashed after fireflies across the gravel by the pond then deeper into the tall grass by the stream. We ran up the hill and into the forest. The forest was inky-blue in the darkness, glistering with a golden sheen where the fireflies rested on the grass, the leaves and the sky. They scattered as we approached without pausing the slightest in their humming and pulsing. "OOOhhh, That's mine!" Yamazaki shouted, running ahead and pouncing upon one of the green bugs resting on a tree trunk. He missed.

"Not so fast, nakama!" I chased after the frightened ball of light and I got it first, cupping it with my hands. But it sneaked out under my palm and shot towards Yamazaki.

"Come to papa!"

"No that's mine!"

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

We continued to rush around like kids, chasing the same firefly. I haven't heard Yamazaki's song yet, but for the first time I heard a new sound stirring in my soul...from an old genre.

:: :: ::

We put the fireflies we caught into wicker baskets. There were about 50 of them in each basket, and together they glimmered as brightly as emerald lanterns. So brilliant yet so cold. A night breeze began to gust, but the pulsing remained as constant as heartbeats. The only thing that affected them was the oscillation rate of their neighbors. Even if one of them went out of tune, they would shortly resume their synchronicity.

_Synchronicity. _

When you're so in tune with the music of everyone…nothing can go wrong with the world. Like the day you drive down the street, and its green light all the way. Or even if you're stuck in traffic your fellow driver gives you a wonderful smile. Am I as naïve as the Jimi? How could I – even for an instant – dream that could happen to me? Oh wait, it already did. That's the commercial I saw on TV that convinced me to buy my car!

:: :: ::

The past hour with Yamazaki was really something. I've never felt happier in years. I started chatting with him as we headed back to the dojo.

"If you don't mind me asking? How old are you?"

"I was born in the Year of the Horse, danna." Horse? I raised an eyebrow. He seemed more like a sheep to me. It's that clueless look on his face. He resembles a lamb (2) or may be an ass…At any rate, a herbivore seems about right.

"And the hour?"

"The hour of the Dog. Some say my character's more like a dog." Ya got that right…_runt._

"And you, danna?" Huh? What's this, matchmaking? I've never told anyone my real details except for Shinsuke…and even he had to force it out of me. But oh well, I felt like sharing a little tonight.

"The year of the Ox. That makes me 5 years older than you." Although I feel so much older.

"Oh – that's similar to Hijika – _AHAHA…" _You know, I'm getting tired of listening to him bring up this guy.

"And your hour, danna?"

"Hour of the mighty Tiger!" I boasted. _And the soul of a majestic dragon!_

"Oh. I would have figured you for a cock."

"A cock?!?!"

"Ha ha ha…Just joking. No offense but your hairstyle looks like a bird's." _Kami-sama!_ May I cut him? I took a deep breath and smiled tolerantly. "It's been very gracious of you to spend the past hour with me. How can I ever thank you for your time? Now that I've done this, I can leave Japan again with no regret. May I offer you some sake in thanks?"

"No thank you danna. I can't drink. I still have to drive home"

"Oh come on – give me some face – just one cup."

"If you put it that way…"

:: :: ::

"You know, I was surprised when you said you got mugged, but not only were you not angry at the perpetrator, but you were grateful."

"I guess I couldn't be a kid forever."

"Why?"

"You're going to laugh at me, but the guy who cut me…I couldn't hate him. The world is too complicated for me to understand. BANZAI! That's what we've been taught to shout when we see a flag with a red dot. But take away the flag and the BANZAI's aren't we all the same underneath? Eh, Bonsai?"

"…" I am not Bonsai, I am Bansai.

"We are all fireflies."

"…" I am not a fly, I am _Bansai._

"So I think he was like me really. He fought for what he wanted to protect. Although…" he laughed. "He was a weird-assed otaku guy who said it was my song he wanted to protect. _Ah-ha_ what a deviant!" He pointed his finger in emphasis, then clenched it into a fist with an embarrassed laugh. "Naa… I shouldn't make fun of the mentally challenged. For all I know he could be autistic and was raised in a locked room with his shamisen as his only friend."

Yamazaki…you are the most stupid, naïve and gullible man I have ever met. But your soul song at this moment … is how I feel about Shinsuke.

_So what does that make me?_

My cell suddenly rang, and I pulled it out of my sash – It was Shinsuke's number! I quickly excused myself and walked towards the outhouse. "Moshi-moshi" I answered cautiously. But it cut off just as soon as I picked it up Huh? Did Shinsuke speed dial me by mistake? Should I return his call? But since I had conveniently arrived at the toilet, I decided to answer a call of a different nature…_Er…no._ The place was too dark and too nasty. Only kami-sama knows what organisms dwelt within. I decided to head to the back of the outhouse instead. As I turned the corner, I saw a compact figure of medium height leaning against the wall, chewing on the long stem of straw. The night went completely still, as if a bubble of silence had exploded in my heart and expanded rapidly into the sky …only the tall grass and his thin silken robe rustled soothingly. Beneath the calmness of the scene flowed an undercurrent of psychosis.

"What a coincidence. I was just looking for you." Shinsuke greeted in his rich, commanding baritone. I couldn't see his face, but I could just feel…his lips must be curled at the corners from his undertone of amusement.

"Y-you! What are you doing here?"

"Didn't you say that you had to meet a Kiheitai operative at 10pm tonight? So, here I am. Aren't you glad to see me?"

"How did you know where I was?"

"Gomen..._I tapped your phone._"

_To be continued … last chp. This was supposed to be last but it got too long so I cut it in two. ^^_

:: :: ::

(1)A Japanese Proverb. Meant to be a parable of life, XD. about some monkeys in a tree. There was a well under the tree. Looking down, they saw the reflection of the moon in the water and mistook it for the real thing. They decided to capture the bright object. One monkey clung to a branch with his feet and held on to another monkey with his hands. The second monkey grabbed hold of the feet of the third, and the third the forth and so on in a long chain. When the chain of bodies had almost reached the water the branch suddenly broke due to the excessive weight – and all the monkeys were drowned.

(2) Nod to title of _ringo ame's_ fanart ^^

Please review because....reviews make me happy. :)


	6. Back in Tune

::

_**:: OUT OF TUNE 6 ::**_

::

"_Y-you!"_ I wouldn't put it past him to do such a thing, he was _Shinsuke_ after all, but I still felt really violated."Why did you do that for? Have I ever disobeyed your commands?" "No…" he burbled with evil laughter. "So what if… I _command_ you to execute that Shinsengumi dog right now, what would you do?" I disliked his probing look so I pushed up my sunglasses with my middle finger.

"Of course I would obey you…_if it makes sense._"

"Who cares? He's just a small fry."

"Even a fly has its uses…"

"For your bait or on a date?"

I furrowed my brows. _Ya got me there, Shinsuke -- I'm on a date, _I thought sarcastically. But of course I didn't dare say that. Any carelessness on my part could inadvertently trigger his crazy death trance. Luckily I had plenty of practice buttering up _prima donnas_ in my dayjob as a meat marketer. "Well you showed up at the right time. There are so many fireflies tonight."

"They're gorgeous. Now would be a perfect time for an outdoor screening of "Grave of the Fireflies" by Hayao Miyazaki."

I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you liked anime."

"Are you kidding me? I'm talking about the _live-action _movie. Starring the Bakufu dog Yamazaki as our beautiful firefly. You know back in the day, "Grave of the Fireflies" debuted back-to-back with "My Neighbour Pedoro".

"Yes."

"You know why?"

"…because 'Grave' is a tragedy? Personally I find 'Pedoro' more disturbing...but after a tragedy, most people need comedy."

"The same goes for Yamazaki. The Shinsengumi depend on him to be the butt of their jokes. Now that they've suffered a tragic loss thanks to our "friend" Itou, the dogs are licking their wounds. What do you think will happen if we deprive them of their _Sad Sack?_"

"They'll just find someone else to angst on – like us."

"Exactly. But they can't get their hands on us. All that angst and violence still has to go somewhere. In the end, they'll just take it out on whoever's closest at hand." Shinsuke gave a sadistic chuckle. "How about it? Do I make sense now?_" _his mockery turned solemn. "_So execute him."_

"…" Shinsuke makes sense. I did come after Yamazaki for the entertainment. Not the kind of mindless escape that I specialized in providing for my "herd". But a real sense of … _being free to be myself._ If Yamazaki affected me this way then how much more indispensable was he for Hijikata's sanity? What if Yamazaki died and Hijikata and Okita had no one to rag on except each other? Would Hijikata lapse into his Demonic Vice-Commander mode and overwork his men into a mutiny? Bury their firefly and dig a grave for the Shinsengumi, indeed.

_But I can't do it. _

I clamped a hand on my leader's shoulder. "Shinsuke, what if – "

He cut me off icily. "The life of a firefly is over in a twinkling of an eye. Kill him now or later, he still has to be killed."

"Listen to me— "

"I see you won't execute him…then let me do it." He pushed forward, ignoring my hand as if he couldn't feel it.

"No! _Shinsuke!"_ I tightened my hold on his sleeve, a bitter taste at the back of my mouth. All of a sudden I was tired of being taken for granted. Of being handled like some disposable tool. I am _not_ his personal _microphone._ We were supposed to be two notes from the same shamisen. It took Yamazaki's soul song to show me how out of tune we were. I wish I could fix us back again, to the way we once were…

_What wouldn't I...?_

:: :: ::_  
_

A familiar voice chimed out from the corridor of the dojo. "Kamehameha-danna? Danna?"

Oh kami-sama, why did the Jimi_ have to_ choose this moment to look for me? Shinsuke's eyes went glassy with murderous intent. His hand reached for the hilt of his katana. I quickly shoved him against the wall and covered his face with my palm. I was surprised he let me do it. Maybe he was ill. His hot breath singed my palm and his skin was feverish. "You're sick," I whispered. "Let's do this another day."

"Dannaaa!" Yamazaki called from within the outhouse. He was getting closer.

"…only in the head." Shinsuke replied with muffled amusement. He pushed me to get out, lightly at first, then more insistently. When he realized I was serious about stopping him, he fought back in earnest. Our scuffling against the wooden siding sounded out of sync with the monotonous humming of insects.

"Danna – what are you doing over there? Hey Dannaaaa!"

Yamazaki's footsteps approached from behind the corner. I had to do something immediately to stop the two from meeting. I could knock Shinsuke out then make Yamazaki leave or knock out Yamazaki out then leave with Shinsuke. It was as if two roads diverged in the woods, and I took the road less traveled…_by single-eyed psychos._

"Ok ok!" I whispered, "You win…I'll take care of him."

"Liar… I'll do it myself." He gave a sharp push and I let him go, afraid that I'd dislocate something. Shinsuke rubbed his shoulder sourly. "Get lost." He commanded.

"This is wrong."

"Do as you wish…" Shinsuke said, pulling out his katana. The eerie emerald light from the fireflies flung themselves onto his blade and extinguished their lives. A psychotic edge crept into his voice. "…just stay out of my way."

_No, I won't let Yamazaki be hurt._

An unfamiliar music played in my soul. I heard guitars as molten and smooth as the Kawada river at dawn; Beats as light as the bright wings of a butterfly; and vocals as delicate as a lolita's hissing breath. I swear I've never heard it before, but my cheeks immediately flushed and my body grew hot. It was – Yamazaki's soul song! The very same one that he played _that day!!_ But now it was coming from _within_ _my soul. _And the genre wasn't punk rock! It was…_nu-disco?_….My senses heightened. I remember the humid night air smelled empty, like moss, burnt tobacco and grass. Shinsuke's eye looked like an amethyst marble with emerald specks. I _felt_ him make his fatal decision, but instead of escaping, some force from my past life pushed me towards the knife's edge.

At moments like this, I can only be _me_.

Even if I have to face the music...

_"__ I will protect Yamazaki."_

At first, I thought Shinsuke had given me a painful shove. Then blood filled my mouth and splattered over my shivering body. I plunged into shock and could neither feel my arms nor my legs. Kami-sama… the hilt of his katana nested into my ribcage, _into_ _my liver…_ My body collapsed forwards. I was falling into the bottomless depths of Shinsuke's eye. Strangely enough, his iris wasn't black, it was cranberry with a ring of navy. His eye shape wasn't narrow, it was completely wide. His pupil dilated in very slow motion, like the stars of a peony firework expanding outwards in total silence.

One cold November night, I sat in the middle of a flower bridge in Kyoto and played my shamisen. Hardly anyone passed by because they had all gone to see the festival. A stranger in a straw hat joined me, leaning against the balustrade of on the opposite side. He began playing a melody so Spartan yet elegant that it was painful. I preferred prettier sounds, so I harmonized with a background rhythm. Then we switched. It was like a strange conversation without words. We did not play any new songs….just the old songs were enough, more than – we preferred to listen to the old songs, to figure out how the other person took off from there. After what seemed like hours I finally looked up. Fireworks exploded through the sky, followed by deafening claps of thunder. I was awed and frightened, as this was my first time seeing them. The fiery flowers expanded so quickly and in such profusion that I instinctively raised my arm and cringed. They seemed so near that I was afraid to be burnt by their falling cinders. With a smirk, the stranger walked over, unfolded a paper fan and held it over my head. Golden chrysanthemums, red kamuros and long-tailed spiders burst behind his straw hat. His billowing silhouette was mysteriously accented by pulsing, glowing trails. A gust of cold wind blew and he leaned into it, closing his eyes. I wished that I could burn that moment into my mind or immortalize it in commercially pleasurable music, never to fade away.

I looked up at him, and he was like my_... shelter._

I felt a sharp slap on my face and heard the sound of ripping silk. Shinsuke was bandaging me. I saw him hiss to another person who had arrived. Oh _Kami-sama_ I hope he wasn't going to kill Yamazaki. What was he doing? I felt Yamazaki under one side of my arm and Shinsuke under another. I felt my body being thrown inside my Maserati and Shinsuke was at the wheel. _Don't kill him,_ I said, but could only cough and choke. Someone cradled my head to help me breathe. I don't know what happened after that... My strength was fading. If I could still move I would ask for paper and pen to record…_this music. _No words can describe how I felt when I finally heard it again. It was more beautiful than I ever imagined. In the end I didn't hear Yamazaki's soul song, but I heard my own song and now I can hear Shinsuke's soul song again, the real one. We were back like how we used to be, two notes from the same shamisen.

_Back in tune._

_Thank you master melody-maker._

_I got my wish...  
_

After I died, I spiraled down a long flight of stairs then started swimming through a dark tunnel. Suddenly, my voyage screeched to a painful halt and I pitched face forwards. When I looked up, I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. It was v-shaped, orange on top and violet at the bottom. It flicked on and off obnoxiously close to my sunglasses.

"Nnngh," I made a feeble attempt to swat it away but only managed to twitch my fingers.

"So you can move." Came Shinsuke's deep voice.

What the – _I'm still alive? _I cracked open an eye to see Shinsuke's outstretched hand holding his gold zippo. He had stopped the car and turned around from the driver's seat to look at me. His voice sounded unexpectedly concerned and apologetic."Bansai, there's something I've wanted to say to you for years but was too embarrassed to tell you."

_Aww... _"Sssokay…I-I fforgeeve chu."

"No, not that."

I blushed."I-I-I luuuv—"

"NOOO NOT THAT!!" Shinsuke shouted. He dragged my shirtfront close to him and pressed his lips to my ears. I heard a nasty, hot and wet sound. _"Your shamisen playing sucks."_

He handed his lighter to Yamazaki._  
_

"If he passes out, burn his..._ nipples._"

_Fin_

:: :: ::

A/N: When Bansai talks to Shinsuke, he's supposed to use a formal type of japanese that makes him sound more subservient, like "This one" or "your subordinate" instead of "I" but it was too difficult for me so I skipped that. A big thanks to those who supported me while the fic was in progress m(_ _)m

_Linkage:_

1) official Gintama artwork of Bansai enjoying Shinsuke holding a fan over his head = http: / / "img529" dot "imageshack" dot "us/img529/3563/takasugibansaitw5" dot "jpg"

2) if you love Yamazaki-type guys, you might like the main character in "Family Compo" by Tsukasa Hojo. I read it online at onemanga dot com.

3) Yamazaki AMV: Search for "山崎" on Youtube. here's the title of one AMV " [銀魂]　山崎ジミーMAD" set to the song, HEY JIMI!

_Finally -- please leave a review. How was the ending - strong/weak or did you expect something else? Negative comments are fine too. I'm very curious :)_


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